Kiss Me You Animal
by Scars and Cigarettes
Summary: Mello is a homeless man living on the streets due to gang troubles, when he seemingly coincidentally keeps meeting Matt. Is this the start of something special, or just pity? Awful at summaries. Please R&R! Rating subject to change.


**A/N: ****Hi, guys:D This is my second story but I kinda gave up on the first. Here's hoping I continue with this one! Enjoy!**

**Oh, I don't own Death Note. But how I _wish _I owned Mello...**

**-**Scars and Cigarettes

* * *

**Chapter One**

A young man was curled up at the edge of the pavement, watching each car pass quickly by. The dismal weather seemed to match his mood perfectly. He was sitting on the kerb in an exquisite estate, watching the sparse traffic and feeling rather like a Smart Car in a world of Ferraris. The man pulled blonde hair out of his azure eyes with delicate fingers for the umpteenth time that hour. He let out a sigh when he saw the contents of his makeshift donation tin (a Coke can with the whole top cut off). All that was in the can was 10 pence and a piece of used chewing gum. Ah, well. At least he found his dinner.

The giant sleeping bag wrapped around the man's thin frame did not prove very useful – probably due to the fact that it was from Home Bargains. He huddled into it, searching for pedestrians that he could guilt into donating money. The blonde sighed in defeat at the lack of people. Or so he thought, right before he caught a flash of red in his peripheral vision. Turning slowly to prepare himself for disappointment, he was surprised to find that it was, in fact, a person. The man whose name we do not know yet snuggled further into his sleeping bag so that only his eyes and nose were visible, making him look particularly pathetic, and placed a half-genuine frown upon his face.

"Excuse me, but could you please spare some change?" inquired the blonde man currently situated upon the pavement. Up until that point, the stranger's back was to the homeless man, so it was impossible to get a clear inspection of the redhead. He turned around to reveal a pair of amber-tinted goggles, a small smile and a medium-sized, straight nose. Overall, the man was not bad-looking. He smiled apologetically before shaking his head. "No, sorry," said he rooting through his wallet, "but wait. I have a fifty pence piece. I know it's not much, but it's the only change I have…"

"Anything is fine. Thanks so much," said the man with blonde hair. "My name is Mello."

"They call me Matt," replied the redhead. "You're alright, Mello."

Mello stuck out his tongue in response, in a bit of a mock-pout. "Is that good or bad?" Immediately he felt foolish for his actions; he hardly knew Matt but he was still teasing the redhead.

"Good, haha. I have to get going for work now, so bye," Matt said to Mello.

That night was particularly frosty. The cold slipped into the cheap sleeping bag and made Mello's teeth chatter, and he felt as if he was on the brink of death itself. In all honesty, it is _not _a pleasant feeling. All night, the only thing keeping Mello going was the first friendly person to talk to him in two years. The man's kindness warmed his bones, even if the conversation was just a pleasantry formed from pity. Not to mention the fact that that fifty pence piece alone was enough to buy him a small, weak cup of coffee. But still, that night was one of the worst that time of year. The kerb he was sleeping on had a puddle just underneath it. The puddle was small, but just large enough that every car that drove past got a different part of his body wet. But still, the only thing keeping Mello going was the fact that a stranger was kind enough to give him money and keep a pleasant conversation going. On top of all that, he said he was going to work, which must have meant that he travels to his work this way every day – they could maybe continue talking, if Matt wasn't already sick of him. Laughing to himself at the thought despite his worries, he fell into a peaceful sleep, dreaming of an object foreign to him. It was brown, and stuck together in chunks so as to aid consumption. A silver wrapper covered it and Mello dreamed that he unpeeled the wrapper and took a huge bite. The taste was an explosion on his tongue. It was sweet - full of sugar, he supposed. In the dream, a rainbow appeared above him at the deliciousness of the chocolate and he sprouted a pair of ivory wings. Mello felt as if he were in heaven. However, he knew it was a dream because he was certain he was going to hell, what with all the illegal acts he had practised over the years. Then, he ran out of the sweet treat and was looking for more, but there was none. Matt appeared in his dream for the sole reason of giving him a fifty pence piece to buy another one. Mello was ecstatic and shared half with Matt.

* * *

The next morning, Mello awoke to find the sun in the middle of the sky, meaning it was noon. He sighed; it meant that Matt had already headed to work. No more money for him. Or conversation, for that matter. And so, he went about the day sighing and staying silent, penniless. Well, if you do not count the five pence piece he found on the floor. Anyone he asked for spare change either simply pretended they did not hear him, or looked at him with disgust in their eyes. He felt like an outcast – a snowflake in the blazing sun. He wasn't going to last long if he kept up this homeless life; he needed an escape. But that's where the fun ended. Letting out a soft sigh at the realisation, Mello lay down, hoping the escape of dreams would come. But it did not. Not until he saw that the black blanket was dotted with stars and the bright globe of the moon was looking down upon him was he able to sleep. He dreamed of the unknown snack, the sweet taste dripping off his salivating tongue. But this time, Matt was not there. Maybe Mello didn't have a friend after all.


End file.
